Dreams Go Slow
by aloverofthelight
Summary: He remembers her. She was the wind. She was fleeting.


**Note**: Again, I know it's short. I'm going to start working on a multi-chapter fic here shortly. I am re-reading the brick now and doing a character analysis on the boys and Éponine. I really want to flesh everyone out. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little piece. :)

* * *

_Only know you've been high when you're feeling low_

* * *

Enjolras watched her die. He watched her die in someone else's arms. He didn't, he couldn't, even move to be next to her. He just…watched.

Suddenly, everything was a blur. His friends moved her body, someone was passing around a bottle of wine, someone else said to stay alert and have faith. Had he said that? He couldn't be sure anymore. In the midst of the action, Enjolras found himself alone.

His thoughts were deafening.

* * *

_Only hate the road when you're missing home_

* * *

He studied people. That's how he first noticed her, a shadow amongst the crowd. Isn't that how it always begins? A glance.

The more he saw her, the more he learned about her. He learned her name was Éponine. She would come to the meetings, but stay hidden in the corner. She would smile sometimes, mostly to herself, and she had a dimple. She would stay quiet, though when she said something (mostly to Marius, he noted) she would tease, all in good fun. When he saw her in the streets, he learned she was quick. She knew how to disappear. She was wind, blowing through the crowds and down the alleyways. After some time, he discovered she was in love. The way she looked at Marius, lingered on every word, she was completely in love.

Enjolras talked to her after a meeting. He had wondered if she would mind showing him the streets that she knew so well.

She obliged.

They walked.

It became a regular thing. Marius was preoccupied with another girl, leaving Éponine heartbroken. Their walks had turned into some form of therapy for her. She was still upset, yes, but it took her mind off of the situation. Sometimes they would talk, never about her, sometimes about him. Other times they walked in an amicable silence. A few occasions, they even discussed revolution. She had listened well in the meetings. Enjolras liked talking with Éponine. There was something different about her. She didn't giggle like the other women he had encountered. She was less restrained. Wild and untamed.

One night, she kissed him. He let her.

It was innocent. They had been walking in a comfortable silence when she had pulled him aside, underneath an awning. She had been upset that night, but he had known not to ask. He thought she might tell him there under the awning, but he turned to see her staring at him. Her eyes traveled down his nose to his lips, then back to his eyes. Without a word, she stood on tip toe and swiftly kissed him.

Her lips were soft and warm. Her hand on his cheek was light. He was acutely aware of the soft breeze that blew around them, making her hair dance. As quickly as it began, it was over. She was smiling, that one dimple appearing again. Then she was gone, like her kiss. Enjolras could still feel her lips on his as he began walking home. He smiled.

She was gone for the next few days. Enjolras was busy with the revolution, but he caught glances of her. He saw her once in the crowd and another time at the café. At night, when he was alone, he thought of her. Her brief kiss, her smile, the way her hair flew behind her back when she ran down an alleyway. He wondered if he would walk with her again; perhaps even steal a kiss next time. Maybe after everything changed, something could happen.

He didn't see her again till Lamarque's funeral procession. She was wearing a cap and men's clothing, but he couldn't forget the curve of her jaw or her lips or that dimple. Then everyone was running. He lost her in the commotion. Revolution had begun. If he saw her again he would tell her to leave. When he did see her, it was too late.

* * *

_Only know you love her when you let her go_

* * *

Did he love her? No. She had been in love with someone else. He was in love with his country. For a moment though, he thought something could happen. Something could have been there after everything changed. Things had to change. They just had to.

All at once, a fire erupted inside Enjolras. There was a renewed fight and a revived hope. He would fight back and he would be the change. That's why they were there, wasn't it? To change. To make a difference. He was ready.

* * *

_And you let her go_

* * *

**A/N: **I kind of based it off the song by Let Her Go by Passenger. I've seen a few graphics floating around tumblr with that song and I had been toying with the idea of using it for something. I don't know, it just spoke to me. I kind of like the song Stubborn Love by the Lumineers for it too. Maybe another short one. Who knows.


End file.
